


Road Trip!

by GalacticAesir



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Dubious Placement in Canon, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Road Trips, Ship Teasing, Temporary Truce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticAesir/pseuds/GalacticAesir
Summary: After getting hit with an anti-magic Shen Gong Wu that leaves Dojo unable to fly them back to China, the Dragons in training, plus Jack Spicer in tow, road trip across America towards the Bailey's family ranch.Surprising no one, it doesn't go as planned.





	1. Stranded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. a special guest cameo

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T FLY US BACK!?”

The scream bounced off burnt trees through the far reaches of the forest and echoed on into the Appalachian mountains beyond. In the distance, a flock of birds flew out of the trees, taking to the skies, startled by the strange noise. In a small clearing, the smell of burning wood wafted around a brightly clothed Japanese girl.

Dojo gingerly poked his head from where he was hiding behind Clay. “It means I can't fly you back?”

Kimiko, heat coming off her in waves as she breathed through her nose glared daggers at the small dragon. Clay, in the path of the glare started sweating, eyes darting around, silently pleading his companions to step in before he became a Bailey barbeque. Raimundo, off on the sidelines of the confrontation, piped up before she went off again.

“How come Dojo?”

“It's the latest Shen Gong Wu,” he explained, pointing at a the recently acquired Wu in Clay’s hand. “The Stone of Ten drains magic. Temporarily at least.”

“Oh, so you mean that when Wuya hit you with it during the showdown,” Clay started.

“It drained your mogo!” Omi finished.

“Mojo,” Raimundo corrected.

“Exactly, kids.”

“So how long will it take to wear off?” Kimiko said through her teeth.

Dojo chuckled nervously. “Well, see, about that…” Clay wisely stepped out of Kimiko’s way. Just in case. The small dragon continued to flounder, now wholly aware that he was without cover until finally, “...I have no idea.”

Kimiko screamed in frustration and stomped away, her hair whipping around and sending a wave of embers around the clearing.

“But Dojo,” Omi asked. “How are we supposed to get back to the temple?”

It was at this point that a bright red crop of hair appeared from atop a pile of scrap metal. Jack Spicer, self proclaimed evil genius, climbed up the pile of damaged robots and pointed a finger down at the monks while cackling his trademarked evil laugh.

“Hahaha losers, have fun being stranded! With you out of the picture, I'll be able to steal all your Shen Gong Wu from the temple!” he said before tapping his watch. The rotors on his backpack extended. “Smell ya later!”

Jack struck a pose, something suitable for the gloating he'd just dished out on those goody-two shoes.

And nothing happened.

He tapped his wristwatch a few more times. Nothing.

The monks watched on expectantly.

“Umm,” he said, voice cracking. “Give me a second.”

Quickly, he unclipped his backpack and swung it around.

“My heli-pack!” he screamed in horror at the sight of it.

The heli-pack was nearly vivisected, the top head cap of a Jackbot stuck out of it on an angle like it had been thrown like a frisbee before embedding itself into the pack. Exposed wires sparked, hanging loosely out of it while a thick oily liquid spilled out from its innards.

“Oh, that was me!” said Raimundo cheerfully.

Jack slowly looked to the monks and their many Shen Gong Wu. Then to the pile of Jackbots laying ruined in pieces around him. Then again to his busted heli-pack and back to the monks. He shrunk slightly.

“Hey,” he started laughing nervously. “How about we all forget what I just said? Water under the bridge you know? Let bygones be bygones?”

Kimiko stomped over to him as he cowered on the scorched forest floor. She eclipsed the sun, casting a shadow over Jack. Her eyes glowed orange and Jack suddenly felt very cold.

“And give you a ride back?” she suggested sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“Ummm, yes?”

Cheery facade breaking as soon as it had appeared, Kimiko wound her fist back and Jack quickly covered his face with the busted heli-pack. Clay piped up right as she was about to bring her righteous fury down.

“Now hold on Kimiko.”

“What?” she said, fist paused mid swing.

“I reckon we might be needin’ him.”

Everyone’s head snapped to look at Clay.

“What do you mean Clay?” Omi asked.

Clay furrowed his brows and scratched at his chin. It was an inherited habit that Clay had whenever he was thinking through a plan, the monks had seen Mr Bailey do the same on their trips to the family’s ranch.

“Well, looks like it might take a bit of time for Dojo to get his mojo back. We could stay at Daddy's ranch until then but we'll need to get there first.”

“Sounds like a plan, Clay,” Raimundo said. “But how do we get there from… wherever the heck we are.”

“West Virginia.”

“My powers aren’t strong enough to fly us more than a few kilometers.”

Jack piped up, lowering his makeshift shield. “And what does this have to do with me?”

As Kimiko glared back at him, he whimpered again and hid behind the still sparking machine.

“Well,” Clay said, looking to the rest of them. “Does anyone have any money?”

The Dragons in training paused at the question and began ruffling through their pockets.

“Um, I've got a bout forty reais?” Raimundo offered.

“And I have some change!” said Omi brandishing his yuan and jiao coins.

The monks turned to Kimiko.

“Why are you all looking at me?”

“Because you're the only one who wears a purse?”

“What, just because I'm a girl I'm supposed to carry everything with me?”

“Kimiko,” Omi said nervously. “You do have your purse with you yes?”

Kimiko's face went as red as Jack's hair. The evil genius scooted away from her afraid of any misplaced retribution. Instead, Kimiko hid her face in her hands and deflated.

“I didn't have a purse that matched this outfit,” she admitted through her fingers.

“Oh come on!”

“Like you have anything to show for it Raimundo! What are we supposed to do with reais in North America?”

“Hey now,” Clay said in a placating gesture before the two not-lovebirds started fighting again. Talk about fanning the flames. Instead Clay redirected their attention, turning to the evil genius picking himself off the ground. “Jack?”

Jack scoffed, flapping his hand dismissively. “Listen, I know my family's rich but I don't fly around with thousand dollar bills in my pocket!”

Clay’s stare didn’t relent though and after a moment, Jack cracked under the pressure. Face flushing, he fished out his wallet from the folds of his trenchcoat.

“Um, well,” he said opening his wallet and counting the bills. “I've got about five hundred on me. You guys are lucky the criminal underground runs on US dollars.”

“I reckon that's something. I've got ‘bout another forty on me to add to that.”

Kimiko looked at Clay, doubtful. “What can we do with less than six hundred dollars?”

“The best we can I figure,” the Texan shrugged. “It's not enough for a plane or a bus, I don't think, or more than a few nights in a hotel.”

“What if we call someone on Kimiko’s cellphone?”

“I would Omi but someone,” she glared at Jack, “had to break it during the showdown.”

Raimundo crossed his arms looking pointedly at Jack. “Can’t you fix it, genius?”

It was Jack’s turn to look offended. “Do I look like I carry a soldering iron with me?”

“You do, actually.”

“What about buying a car?” Dojo suggested, perching himself on Clay’s shoulders.

“What kind of car are we going to buy with six hundred dollars?”

“Not a good one,” said Clay. “But we only need to get to Texas. It’s far but it ain’t that far.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Omi said. “But, my friends, how do we get out of this forest to find a car?”

“Rai?”

“On it. Hold onto to hats! Typhoon Boom Wind!”

 

* * *

 

The pines rustled in the wind, filling the Monongahela national forest with a soothing hum. From between the trees a forest ranger stepped out into a clearing, one that had not been there a day ago. He surveyed the damage with the countenance of a man who had seen pretty much everything life had to offer and was surprisingly not startled, though still definitely peeved, to find that a vast swatch of his forest had been burned to a crisp.

“Aw, now, what the hell?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit this one's a challenge. I usually spend forever writing and edit and anguishing over the smallest detail. This fic is a bit of an experiment in just letting it go and writing. It's... a bit of an adjustment to make!
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoyed this dumb little things and the other chapters to (hopefully) come!


	2. B. H. Keatt's U-Pull Parts and Services

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because at B.H. Keatt’s U-Pull Parts and Services, you’re fucked six ways from Sunday!

“Ai, I’m done. Raimundo out.”

The young Brazilian then proceeded to fall dramatically to his knees and keel over into the soft green grass of a ditch. Besides him, the rest of his team got to their feet. Jack Spicer, meanwhile, was a bit less steady in his footing.

“Ughhhhh,” he said clutching his stomach. The world wouldn’t stop spinning. “That was worse than the undulating.”

Taking note of Jack’s green complexion, Clay’s hands flew up protectively to his hat. “Spicer, if you ruin my hat again I swear I’ll make you learn the meaning of putting a dog's ear through a bramble bush.

Jack flapped his hand at Clay dismissively as the worst of the vertigo faded away. He picked himself up and looked at the mess around them. Raimundo’s tornado had picked up all kinds of debris along the way. A glint caught his eye and he noticed something very familiar near his feet.

“Aw, JB-001, no,” he said frowning sadly at the maggled robot.

“Raimundo,” Omi said, rubbing at his head gingerly. “While I am impressed at the mastery of your element, could you have perhaps left Jack’s robots in the clearing?”

“Not to mention the rocks and trees. I sure took a pounding there, Rai.”

“Is that why my robots are mincemeat?”

“Dude, it’s the wind,” Raimundo mumbled as an answer.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Kimiko added, running her hand through her tangled hair. “Ugh, it’s going to take me forever to fix this.”

“How about we fix our transportation problems out first?” Dojo piped up. Unlike the others, the dragon felt right as rain. He'd had his fair share of bumpy rides during his long life and a little Apprentice level tornado was nothing.

“Good idea, Dojo!”

“Alright,” said Raimundo finally picking himself up. “Where do we start?”

“I reckon that-a way,” the texan said, pointing to a sign a little bit aways. Durnbum, 3 miles.

 

* * *

 

They had only been walking for about fifthteen minutes and Kimiko already couldn’t stand it. She tried to concentrate on untangling her hair with the Tangle Web Comb but Jack’s constant whining was fraying her nerves.

“Jack, stop complaining.”

“I wouldn’t complain so much if you would just help me out!” Jack said hunched over with a bag tossed over his shoulders. He readjusted it to make a point and the bag clanged as the mangled remains of his robots banged against each other.

“They’re your robots, dude. Why would we help you out? They’re usually trying to kill us!” said Raimundo.

“Why are you even carrying ‘em around?” added Clay.

“They might be useful!”

Omi poked at the bag of scrap skeptically. “I am not sure how they will be of help in their current state.”

“Huh,” said Dojo before Jack could respond, catching the monks’ attention.

“Didja see somethin’, Dojo?” Clay asked, adjusting his hat carefully to not dislodge the tiny dragon who had decided to ride there. Dojo pointed a claw ahead of them and Clay brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun as he squinted down the gravel road.

“Is a car coming?” Kimiko perked up. They hadn’t seen anyone on the roads yet.

“Can you see the town?” Raimundo asked.

“Well, a ‘lil bit,” the cowboy said. “But more importantly, it looks like Jack’s robots might be of use after all.”

“Huh?” the four others said.

Dojo, from his vantage point on Clay’s hat, looked down at Jack. “I hope you aren’t attached to any of your robots there, pal.”

Jack clutched at his bag protectively.

“Come on, let’s keep moving.”

 

* * *

 

The cigarette lit up with bright embers as the man took in a drag. He exhaled, sending a puff of smoke whirling in the stingy stale air of the office. “Say that again.”

Kimiko smiled sweetly despite the smell and smoke. “We’re looking for a car.”

The man guffawed. “Here? You lot in some kind of trouble?”

“Just a bit of a pinch. Nothing that would concern you.”

“Asked and answered,” said the old man. Keatt, the titular owner of B. H. Keatt’s U-Pull Parts and Services looked in his late fifties, wearing grease stained coveralls and a dirty wife beater. He took another drag from his cigarette and knocked the ashes into an old coffee can. He smiled. “Well, ya see kiddos, I ain’t got much in this here lot. Depends on how much you got on you. Cars ain’t cheap.”

Raimundo, who had grown up on the bad side of Rio, was no chump. “If you don’t have a car, we can go somewhere else dude.”

The old man laughed. “Heh, you know I'll be honest here kid, I ain’t the type to stick my neck out for strangers. But you stick me as a business type. I like that. And for that, I'll give you a bargain. What do you say?”

“I say show me the goods and we’ll make a deal, Keatt.”

The man smiled like a snake and gestured off to the side of the building. “Of course, Raimundo, is it? Let’s walk, I think I might have something that interests you over here.”

Keatt stamped his cigarette out in the coffee can and made his way out of the dingy office towards a few parked cars that looked relatively whole. The rest of the monks turned to Raimundo for a quick group huddle.

“Raimundo, I fear this man may not be the trustworthy type.”

“No kiddin’, Omi. That fella’s slicker than a boiled onion.”

“How much can we even afford to spend on this car?” Kimiko asked. “We’ve only got six hundred dollars.”

“You know,” Jack piped up, “I never actually said I’d help.”

The monks all turned to glare at him.

“Alright, alright, fine! You can have my money.”

“Guys, guys,” Raimundo said. “I’ve got this. He’s nothing compared to what we have in Rio. Leave the negotiating to me.”

With that he winked at them and jogged up to Keatt. From afar, the rest of the monks could see Raimundo put on his smooth talking smile as he slid up to Keatt to negotiate the deal.

“Well,” Kimiko said once they were out of earshot. “We’re doomed.”

 

* * *

 

“Four hundred dollars,” Jack said reluctantly as he put the bills in Keatt’s waiting hands.

The old man licked his fingers and leafed through the crisp bills, counting them one by one. Raimundo leaned back on a rusted pile of metal that could technically be considered a car if you squinted at it. The teen smugly patted the side of it like a job well done.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I’ll leave my judgements unsaid for the current moment.” Kimiko’s voice was deadpan.

Keatt rattled a laughed as he finished counting the bills. “Four hundred dollars for an original 1980 Chevy Citation X11,” he said. “It’s all yours. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Jack stomped over to the car, if it could be called that. It was ugly and old and rusted but if it could get them out of this sorry excuse for a town it would be worth it. Still, it didn’t stop him from sneering at it as he fumbled about the hood, trying to find the release.

“Alright, let’s see what my hard earned money bought.”

“It’s not hard earned ya spoiled varmint!”

Jack stuck his tongue out at Clay and lifted the hood.

He blinked.

And then blinked again. Just in case he was seeing wrong. Nope. He spun towards Raimundo, face full of outrage.

“You bought us a car with no engine?!” he yelled.

“What?!”

The monks turned to Raimundo who, in turn, turned to Keatt. The old man smiled smugly at the lot of them and calmly folded the bill's into his shirt pocket.

“You wanted a car,” he said. “Here’s a car. You never said anything about an engine!”

“You ripped us off!”

“Why you no-good two-timing, sunofa-”

Keatt's laugh interrupted Clay.

“What're you going to do? Fight me?”

The monks looked like they very much wanted to.

“The way I see it,” Keatt said, snickering at them. “You kids are in some kind of trouble. Runaways, gangs, I don’t know and I don’t care. But the cops are probably looking for you. Might even be a reward for findin’ ya. So listen here. Either you give me the rest of your money and I find it in my heart to fix up that car, or you fight me and I call the cops. Then we’ll see in exactly what kind of trouble you kids got yourselves into.”

The monks stood down and looked at each other. As much as they could easily trounce the man, he had a point. They couldn’t go about and buy a car legitimately without answering some uncomfortable questions on why they needed one in the first place. Jack, on his end, sneered at the old man arms crossed.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said. “How ‘bout this: you get my scrap and I get to use your garage to fix the car.”

“You think you can fix it yourself boy?”

“I know I can,” Jack said cracking his knuckles and snapping his goggles into place with a flourish. He grinned. “Meet Jack Spicer, evil genius.”

Keatt looked about as impressed as the rest of the monks.

“Whatever, sure,” he said, shrugging. “And when you can’t then I’ll get your money anyways.”

He fished the keys out of his coveralls’ pockets and tossed it to Jack. “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a bit longer than expected (whoops) so I had to split it up. But by next chapter we should be getting this story on the road!
> 
> Chapter songs:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn8GKL5f7pk
> 
> Songs for Keatt:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFgfy-nbuIk (french, sorry you english folks!)  
> … and that one Baltimore used car commercial (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sZuN0xXWLc)


	3. Lets Get This Over With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody knows how this goes...

Keatt guffawed as they attempted to push the car towards the garage. The wreck was flat on its rims with a broken back axle. Even with the five of them at it, all they managed to do was make a two foot car-shaped groove in the muddy ground. One final heave sent them tripping over each other and crashing into the mud as Keatt bent over double, smacking his knee as he laughed.

“Ooh, fellas,” he tried saying between hiccups of laughter. “I haven’t suckered idiots like you in a while.”

He wiped a tear from his eye and tried to compose himself but the mocking smile on his face betrayed his amusement as they shook the mud off themselves.

“Anyways, I’ll be in the office. You have ‘til sundown to fix the car. Get off my property any later and I’ll call the cops on ya for loitering. Got it?”

With that, he sauntered off back to the office building leaving the monks plus Jack alone in the scrapyard. They grumbled as he left before turning their attention to the car.

“Great going, Pedrosa,” Jack snipped.

“Hey! I got us a car, didn’t I?!”

Omi looked at it curiously. “Does it qualify as a car?”

“No, it doesn’t, Omi.”

“Aw, come on, Kimiko.”

“Raimundo,” Kimiko said, cutting the brazilian off. “It’s a deathtrap past its prime. It’s an ex-car.”

Clay scratched at his head as he looked it over. “Woowie. I’ll admit, Rai. It looks like it won last place at the local derby seven years running.”

“So?” Raimundo said. “Jack can fix it.”

Split between agreeing with the praise and tearing into him, Jack settled with both. “Of course I can fix it! I’m a genius. But I can’t do it out here! How the hell are we supposed to get this into the garage?”

Clay peeked over his shoulder to see if Keatt was out of sight. Seeing no one around, he turned to the rest of him with a smile and motioned them all to get out of the way. “Don’t worry, y’all. I’ll have her out of there in a jiffy.”

Before anyone could ask him how, the texan smashed his foot to the ground.

“Earth!”

A column of earth erupted from under the car and pushed it into the air. Clay jumped onto the hood and with a wave of his hand began directing the wave beneath him. Riding it like a surfboard, Clay propelled the car towards the garage, whooping all the way. The monks watched him go.

“Huh, that works.”

 

* * *

 

After moving the car over into the garage, Jack toured them around the scrapyard with a rusty shopping cart. It took them the major part of an hour to fill it with the remnants of disused cars and partially wrecked trucks. They’d managed to find half of two engines and a replacement for the back axle along with a few other parts that Jack figured they would need and hauled them to the waiting car.

In the garage, surrounded by car parts and tools, Jack looked in his element. He spun a wrench in his hand and puffed up his chest as the monks looked over the piles of scrap. “I told you you’d need my help!”

“No, you didn't,” Kimiko said, utterly unimpressed.

He wagged the wrench at her. “It was implied!”

At the continued unimpressed looks from the monks Jack rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, now that I’ve got pretty much everything I need, I should be done with this in, like, four hours tops.”

“Four hours?” Raimundo said. “Can’t you go any faster?”

“Hey! If you want to frankenstein an engine out of scrap faster then be my guest, Pedrosa.” When Raimundo scowled at him Jack continued. “I’m just saying, losers; you need me. In fact,” he added tapping his chin in thought, “I don’t even know why I’m helping you out! I could just fix this car and leave by myself.”

At this, the monks took out their Wu nonchalantly if not menacingly. Jack shrank, laughing nervously, and relaxed only when the monks stashed their weapons.

“Haha, no worries, wouldn’t dream about it. I’ll have this thing working better than it ever did in its sorry life, you’ll see!”

“You’d better, Spicer,” said Kimiko.

“Wait, so what are we supposed to do while you work?”

Jack shrugged. “Don’t know, don't care, just as long as you stay out of my way.”

Dojo popped up from underneath Clay’s hat where he had decided to stay until they got on the road. It’d be easiest to hide himself under there if that swindler ever came back to check on them.

“I don’t know about you kids but I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

“Alright, I’ll go for snacks,” Kimiko said. “Clay, you wanna come?”

“Sure.”

“Ooh, get me a ginger ale!”

“And why should I?” she asked.

“Because I’m fixing the car and, wait, hold on, let me think, oh yeah: it’s my money!”

Kimiko frowned, he was right of course, not that she was going to admit it. Jack was a jerk and they may be stuck together for now but that didn’t mean she needed to like it. Or make it easy for him after all the grief he had put them through. Instead of a response, she turned to the rest of the monks, ignoring him completely.

“Omi, you coming?”

“Oh, I would like to help Jack! I am most interested in this motorhead stuff!”

“Gearhead.”

“That too!”

“Absolutely not,” would have been the words that Jack would have used. Instead, they died in his throat after the first syllable as Omi’s face fell, eyes welling with tears. Jack, for all the evilness in his pitch black heart, could not ignore the puppy dog eyes and so he swallowed down the words and huffed. “Alright, fine, you can hand me my tools or something.”

“Yes!”

Kimiko turned to their remaining member.

“Rai?”

“I’ll stay behind. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you-know-who from stealing our you-know-what.”

“I’m right here!”

“Alright, then. We’ll be in that convenience store just outside of town. See you in a bit.”

Clay lazily waved a hand as they left. “Don’t trash the place, y’all.”

 

* * *

 

“Cheesehead, pass me a 3/8th wrench.”

Omi hummed as he looked at the open toolbox in front of him. It had many drawers and many more tools inside of it in a wide variety of shapes. The little monk was perplexed to find that he had absolutely no idea what any of them did. Nonetheless, Omi was not to be discouraged. Relying on his Tiger instincts, he quickly grabbed a tool he was sure Jack needed and placed it into Jack’s outstretched hand.

The hand quickly retracted as Jack went back to work. Omi congratulated himself. Even with no prior knowledge, he was no match for this task! Surely this was proof of his incredible skill and intelligence!

His pride was quickly dashed however when Jack straightened himself out of the hood and frowned at him. He pointed at the tool.

“This is a screwdriver.”

“Oh!” said Omi. “What does it do?”

Jack tipped his head back and groaned. “Ugh, I can’t work like this! Where’s a loyal minion when you need one?”

Raimundo zipped by them, using a floor creeper as a skateboard.

“Probably in that scraphead over there,” he grinned, pointing his thumb at what remained of the Jackbots.

“Hey! They’re not scrap!” Jack said, moving over to the pile of ex-Jackbots, as if to protect them. “They’re the meticulously engineered product of my incredible genius! They’re the pinnacle of modern robotics! Years ahead of their time!”

“Dude, they’re just robots.”

“Yes, and not particularly robust ones at that.”

Jack gasped and hugged the ex-robots, draping himself over the pile. “Don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous. Daddy loves you.”

“Weird.”

“Whatever,” Jack said, making his way back to the car.

He paused as a thought struck him and flipped the screwdriver in his hand before sitting himself down at the workbench to work on his robots.

“Hey, you’re supposed to fix the car, Spicer!”

“Yeah yeah, it can wait, this is more important,” he said prying the panel of a bot open and removing a small black component. Compared to the rest of the Jackbots, this part was obviously made solid with hard steel and heavy rivets. Wuya’s insignia on it glistened silver on the center of each one.

“What’s that?” Raimundo asked, leaning over Jack’s shoulder.

“Why’re you on my case, Pedrosa?”

Raimundo squinted at Jack. “‘Cause you’re evil.”

“Thank you!” Jack cupped his hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes at him.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” the Dragon of Wind frowned. “You could be building a bomb or something. I don’t trust you to just tinker around.”

Jack’s mouth was pressed into a line as he regarded the Xiaolin monk. “As tempting as it is, Raimundo, that wouldn’t help us out. Or me. Besides,” he said, mouth twirling into a smirk. “How would you even know if I was building one anyways?”

Raimundo's eyes went wide as it dawned on him. Jack looked on with a knowing smirk amongst the car parts and scrap metal and old wiring. He would have no idea if Jack was setting up a trap or a bomb. He would have to go on the Heylin’s word. Sensing this, Jack's lips curled further into a wicked grin.

“Huh. Guess we’ll just have to trust each other then.”

 

* * *

 

An electric jingle played as they walked passed the automatic doors. The cashier at the front offered them a welcoming hello before turning back to watch a baseball game on the old dusty TV set in the corner of the shop. It was a general store that had been repurposed many times over the course of its long life. It was old but clearly cared for by the current owner.

Clay and Kimiko set out between the scant aisles to get snacks for their friends and Jack. Kimiko was considering buying an off-brand ginger ale for Jack out of spite when Clay came around the corner with a mountain of chips and snack cakes. She snorted at the sight of him teetering under the mountain of snacks that were threatening to fall on top of him.

“Hold on there cowboy,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, taking a few off his hands. “We can't blow our budget on snacks.”

Clay sighed and looked longingly at the snacks Kimiko was replacing onto the shelves. “I figure you’re right, there, Kimiko. I’d hazard saying that we still need to pay for at least one night at a motel.”

“‘At least’? How far are we from Texas?”

“It’s not exactly a hop, skip and a jump but it ain’t that far. I’d reckon a 30-sum hour drive?”

Kimiko’s face scrunched at the thought of being stuck in America for that long, let alone that long in a car with Jack Spicer.

“Is there anyway we could go faster, Clay?”

“No can do, Kimiko. ‘Less you want cops riding our tails.”

Kimiko grumbled. She grabbed a cheap ginger ale from the coolers and slammed the door shut.

“Figures.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, Jack hadn't actually been making a bomb. All he did was take out the small components out his bots and put them into his Wu-stealing bag, which Rai had asked about and yes, apparently not only did Jack have a bag just for stealing their Wu, he also kept it on his person at all times so he could haul his broken Jackbots back home at the end of a showdown.

“I don't get it, dude. Why don't you just build them better?”

“With, what?” he said, tossing the bag in the backseat next to his folded up trenchcoat and busted helipod. “Military grade steel and explosives? Do you know how hard it is to get a hold of that stuff?”

“Aren't you, you know,” Raimundo made air quotes, “‘an evil genius’?”

“An evil boy genius,” he specified, turning up his nose at the monk. He then paused and frowned. Looking embarrassed, he mumbled, “My parents won't buy me the good stuff anymore.”

Raimundo and Omi laughed at him.

Jack grabbed a wrench and made his way to the engine block. “Keep laughing, Xiaolin losers! Once I hit 18, you're screwed!”

“Jack Spicer, it would be unwise for you to wait until you are older!” Omi warned, running after him. “We train everyday to develop our abilities and we will only grow stronger! You will be left behind unless you begin training now!”

“Omi, please stop helping the bad guy,” grumbled Raimundo.

“Pssh, I don’t need help. Or training. I have robots for that. So have fun ‘waxing on, waxing off’ for the rest of your lives,” Jack said miming the movement. “Speaking of which, get going Raimundo. That car won’t clean itself.”

“Who said anything about cleaning?”

“I did,” Jack said with a smirk. “Get going, oh-so-noble Xiaolin Dragon of the Wind. The fight against cleanliness is an eternal struggle.”

“Indeed it is,” said Omi solemnly, thinking of Raimundo’s room back at the temple. “One that Raimundo is sorely losing.”

“Aw, what?”

“It would be wise for you to train on this Raimundo,” Omi said wisely. “As Master Fung says, ‘a tidy temple is a tidy mind,’ and it is important to keep one’s mind tidy in order to meditate. Perhaps your messiness is why you are lagging behind the rest of us!”

Raimundo was stunned out of words for a moment before squinting at the smaller Dragon as a realisation hit him.

“Is this about the chores I skipped out on yesterday?”

Omi did not hesitate. “Yes.”

“Come on, I said I was sorry!”

Jack laughed.

“Clean your mind, Raimundo,” the older teen said, waving his fingers at him. He then turned to Omi and said, “I’m teaching you how a combustion engine works. Hold this torch.”

Raimundo’s shoulders slumped as Omi bounced up to the top of the engine to get a better look at what Jack was doing. He couldn’t believe this. Was this what it felt like when he betrayed his teammates for Wuya? It sucked.

Oh wow. And just thinking about that just made him feel even worse.

Frowning, he looked to the trashed interior of the car and the quasi-unidentifiable junk littering the torn seats. With a sigh, he picked up a rag and got to work.

 

* * *

 

Clay and Kimiko quickly paid for the snacks and started their long walk back to the scrapyard. Once they were out of the town, Dojo popped out of his hiding place and opened a small bag of chips to munch on. There was no noise along the lonely, rarely traveled road other than the dragon’s munching and the crunch of their feet on the gravel shoulder.

Kimiko was staring intently at the styrofoam cup in her hand, fuming silently. Clay could feel the air charge around her as she boiled internally. It was strange of her. Clay wasn’t born in the metaphorical barn. He knew when something was up. In the quiet of the gentle bristle of leaves and crunching rock, his voice nearly startled her when he finally spoke.

“You mind me asking why you were so peeved off about no gettin’ back to the temple?” he asked casually enough. “This isn’t the longest we’ve been away or nothing.”

“Ugh, it’s just...” Kimiko frowned and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t sound like nothin’.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Clay?” she snapped.

Clay put his hands up in surrender. The plastic bags in his hands bounced against his arms. “Didn’t mean to pry, Kimiko.”

The Dragon of Fire felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to snap, especially not at Clay who was, often times, the kindest of them.

“Sorry.”

“Mmm hmm.”

Kimiko bit at her lip, as if considering whether or not to speak. Clay kept his eyes on the road ahead of them but waited patiently for her to continue. Finally, she sighed.

“I was supposed to fly out to go see my Dad in Tokyo. We were planning a surprise party for my sister. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

Clay cocked his head. He did remember her mentioning plans to go back home but Kimiko hadn’t told them about a sister.

“Well, happy birthday, Kimiko’s sister. She older or younger?”

“Older. A lot older. She works a lot too so I don’t see her much.”

“Oh, well,” Clay said, “I’m sure she’ll understand if you can’t make it. You can always reschedule for some other time, right?”

Kimiko's shoulders sagged, all anger snuffed out of her like a candle. She looked sadly at the styrofoam cup in her hands and flicked at the plastic lid absentmindedly.

“No. Not with the kind of work she does.”

Clay didn’t say anything, leaving room for Kimiko to continue if she wanted to. He understood that family could be… complicated.

“It’s just, I––” Kimiko started and stopped, trying to find the right words. “I know what she does is super important and I get that that’s what she wants to do but I– we haven’t been the three of us together in a room in years and... and I just...”

She sighed. “I just miss them.”

They continued to walk, both lost in their own thoughts for a while.

“I miss my sister too.”

Kimiko blinked out of her reverie. “What?”

“I have an older sister too,” Clay admitted. “My dad and her don’t...” He paused. “Well, they just don’t see eye to eye, is all. She lives with my mom.”

“Oh,” was all Kimiko could say. “I didn’t know.”

Clay shrugged. “‘Cause I didn’t tell,” he said. “An’ well, listen. I ain’t much with words, Kimiko, but I’ve got a decent ear. You’re free to talk to me if ya want. Y’ain’t gotta keep it locked up, ya know? It’s bad for your health.”

Kimiko laughed softly at that. “Who told you that?”

Clay smiled. “My sister. She’s smart like you wouldn’t believe. She’s going to one of those big city universities.”

Kimiko smiled back, bright like the sun. “She sounds smart. What is she studying?”

They continued to talk as they made their way back to the scrapyard, Dojo smiling fondly down at them as they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm… so would you believe that I forgot I started this fic? Oopsies! That said I’m not giving up and chapter four should be coming very soon!
> 
> Songspirations for this one: Let’s Get This Over With by They Might Be Giants


	4. One Piece at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pranks! Snacks! Near-Murders! And the "Big Reveal"!

Country music wafted out of the speaker of a small disused radio. The rickety sound of a socket wrench and the clanging of metal accompanied the music and its occasional burst of static as it echoed off the concrete walls. Heaving a sigh and disturbing the gentle lull of the music, Raimundo tossed out another bag of junk he’d had to scrape up from the bottom of the car. The bag clattered amongst the rest of the pile which reached up to be almost as big as the car.

Raimundo puffed out a breath as he leaned back against the car. After an hour of scrubbing, he was bored out of his mind and seriously contemplating creating a localised tornado inside the car just to speed up the process. It was high time for a break.

He lazily looked around the garage for Omi and Jack and, not finding them where they had been last, started to get concerned. Jack had been working nonstop to fix the car, only stopping to storm around the garage in a tantrum until either he or Omi asked what was wrong. Raimundo had vaguely wondered if Jack programmed his robots to do just that. That said, Jack was constantly talking, whether to himself, to Omi, or berating whatever tool he was using. He should have noticed when it got quiet.

His thoughts instantly turned to worry and Raimundo marched across the garage. If Jack had done anything to Omi, Raimundo was going to-- He barely had time to finish his thought when he spotted Jack’s leg popping out from under a muscle car. Frowning, Raimundo went to loom over Jack.

“What do you think you’re doing Spicer? Where’s Omi?”

The clanging of metal stopped momentarily before starting again.

“I sent him on a...” He paused. “Errand.”

Raimundo pulled on Jack’s leg, rolling him out from under the car.

“What did you do?”

Jack sent Raimundo the stink eye before rolling back under.

“Relax,” he said. “I just needed him out of my way.”

That didn’t make Raimundo feel any better. He yanked Jack out from under the car again and glared at him.

Jack rolled his eyes again. “Oh, relax! I sent him to find a part for me so he’d stay out of my hair. Omi doesn’t even have a basic understanding of science! Do you know how hard it is to teach how a car works to someone who doesn’t even know what an atom is? What are those monks teaching him?!”

“Somehow, I doubt a bunch of old monks know about physics, dude,” Raimundo shook his head, interrupting himself. That wasn’t what was important. Why was Spicer working on the wrong car? “And what are you even doing?”

Jack gave Raimundo a look that he couldn’t read. “Do you know why this car's nicer than all the other ones in the lot?”

Jack was right. It was a nice car. In fact, it was the nicest car in the yard. An old but very well cared for wine red Mustang with shiny chrome trim and spinning rims. The interior was made of a deep black leather and plush red carpeting. The car was waxed clean and spotless, it shone out like a diamond next to the rusted trash surrounding it.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because it’s obviously Keatt’s car!”

“So?”

“So, I think we’re allowed some revenge! I’m not letting that two bit conman get one over on me!”

Raimundo… couldn’t help but be tempted. “Revenge, huh?”

Jack sat up on the floor creeper with a glint in his eye as he heard the hint of interest in the other’s voice.

“What about it, Raimundo? Wanna join Team Evil?”

“I’m not evil,” he said, then quickly looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. When he saw no one, the Brazilian crouched down next to Jack. “But I wouldn’t mind some revenge against that cabrão.”

Jack laughed. “Haha, Wuya was right about you! You are the worst of the monks!”

Raimundo sputtered at that and quickly tried to change the conversation. “So what kind of prank are we talking about here?”

Jack grinned widely at him and showed him the tool in his hand. He snapped the wire cutters shut a few times for show.

“I'm cutting his brakes!”

That made Raimundo fumble backwards in shock as his brain caught up with him.

“What?!” he yelled. “You can’t cut his brakes!”

“What do you mean? We were just talking about getting revenge!”

Raimundo snatched the wire cutters from his hands, outraged. Jack stood up to try and grab them back but Raimundo held them away from him. “I was talking about a prank, dude! Not killing him!”

“Psh. What’s the big deal? He screwed us over!” Jack said as he tried swiping the tool back.

“He could die, Spicer!”

“Big whoop,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and finally managing to snatch the wire cutters back. He held them high above his and Raimundo’s head, using his few extra inches to keep them out of Raimundo’s reach. He singsonged, “No one will miss him!”

“No way, dude!”

With that, Raimundo jumped up and flipped over the older teen. He landed on the roof of the car and brandished the wire cutters.

“Hey!” Jack said, looking at his empty hands where the wire cutters had been. He climbed onto the hood of the car and stared the other boy down. “What’s the big deal?”

Raimundo pointed an accusing finger at Jack. “The deal is that you’re going to get people killed!”

“Ugh, relax. You’re pristine goody-goody record won’t be tarnished. You’re dealing with a professional here: the cops wouldn’t even be able to trace it back to us.”

“You’re crazy if you think that I’m letting you have these, Spicer.”

“Gimme! They’re mine!”

“No!”

“I said gimme!”

The fight didn’t last long. All Raimundo had to do was dodge Jack’s sloppy tackle and watch as the older teen launched himself off the roof of the car. He landed in a pile of metal scrap with a resounding clang followed by a stream of swears.

“Seriously, dude. I'll wash your mouth off with soap if you talk like that around Omi.”

Jack crawled his way out of the pile and glared up at the Dragon. “So what? We’re just supposed to let him get away scot-free?”

“There’s a difference between a prank and a murder.”

“Psh. Lame. How do you want to get revenge, then?”

Raimundo opened his mouth to answer but, truthfully, he had no idea what to do. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a small and excitable Dragon of Water loudly made his presence known.

“Jack Spicer!” the young monk yelled, running into the garage. He had a small indistinguishable object in his hand that he held high above his head. “I am sure that I have found it this time!”

A wry smile broke out across Jack’s face as Omi ran over to him, though he was sure to wipe it from his face before Omi could see. The monk showed off what looked like a car part to Jack, who took it and inspected it with a thoughtfully placed scowl.

“Omi,” Jack said with disappointment. “Does this look even vaguely hook-like to you?”

“This is not the skyhook?”

Raimundo snorted despite himself, attempting to cover it off with a cough. An errand. Of course. Now it made sense. Jack continued, unhindered.

“No, no, no, no, it needs a hook-y portion on it! How else am I supposed to lift the engine into the car?”

“This piece is most elusive, Jack,” Omi said seriously. “Are you quite sure we would be able to find one in this scrapyard?”

“If anyone can, Omi,” Jack said, placing a hand on Omi’s shoulder, “it would be you.”

With renewed energy and confidence, Omi made to run out of the garage. “I will find that accursed skyhook! You may count on me!”

Just as the little monk was sprinting out, Raimundo had a breakthrough. “Hold on a sec, Omi!”

Omi skidded to a stop. “Yes, Raimundo?”

“I think the, um, skyhook can wait. I’m going to need your help with something else.”

“Of course Raimundo! In what way would you need my expertise?”

Raimundo smiled innocently and waved Omi over. “Omi, would you be able to,” was all Jack was able to hear before he dropped his voice to a whisper. He pouted and carefully approached them to hear what they were plotting.

“Raimundo, you disappoint me! Of course I can do it! That would be child’s play to me,” Omi said aloud, smiling wide.

“Sweet,” said Raimundo. The Brazilian turned to Jack mid-sneak. “Did you fix the leak in the gas tank?”

Jack paused and tried to pretend he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneakily listen in on their conversation. “Um, yeah?”

“Cool.” He turned to the younger monk. “Omi, if you would?”

“My pleasure!”

The jèibā* on the little monk’s forehead began to glow as he brought his hands before him in concentration. He moved them gently before him in well practiced and precise motions that Jack vaguely recognised. Then, with a cry of “Water!”, shot them into the air. At once, the gas cap of the Mustang wiggled, then burst and the gas floated out into the garage in a ball over Omi’s head. Jack gaped. Raimundo looked pleased with himself. Omi held the ball over his head with one hand as the other twirled in the air. Soon, every gas container in the garage burst and small streams of gas began floating around them and joined the giant multi-coloured ball. Once every last drop was collected, Omi made the liquid sway with his hands, bending it to his will, towards their car. The gas floated around them in streams as Omi swirled them around in an intricate dance, clearly showing off his mastery. Raimundo ran over and opened their gas cap and Omi gently directed the liquid into the gas tank. Raimundo slammed the cap shut and turned to Jack.

“Now that’s a prank!”

“Wuh?”

Raimundo smirked. “When Keatt tries to leave tonight, he’ll be stuck here and we’ll be long gone. And we won’t have to worry about paying for gas.”

Jack looked at the wire cutters a while before tossing them into a tool kit. “Yeah, that’s good enough, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

Kimiko, Clay, and Dojo made their way back to the garage under the high noon sun. They stepped past the barbed wire fence that surrounded the lot and the office where they could see Keatt sitting lazily with his feet kicked up. From afar, Kimiko eyed the cigarette butt in his mouth and quickened the dying ember with a flick of her fingers. There was a yelp of pain as the ember burned through the filter and a crash as Keatt tipped over in surprise. Kimiko smiled at herself, satisfied, as Dojo snickered. Clay side-eyed her but said nothing. The man was a no good lying creep after all; he deserved a bit of grief.

They walked into the garage to find Omi and Raimundo throwing out junk from the trunk of the car, looking thoroughly disgusted. Clay chuckled at seeing Raimundo cleaning for once. The sound of metal caught his attention and they looked to Jack, hands deep in the hood of the car. Jack had tossed his coat aside and was wearing a grungy sleeveless red tank top, sweat dripped down his bicep as he tightened something in the engine. Once he was done he stepped back and pulled his goggles to his neck to judge his work with an expert’s eye. The teen wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his blackened, grease-stained hand and, unknowingly, just managed to spread the grease across his forehead. Clay’s heart fluttered at the sight.

Before immediately dropping to his stomach.

Oh no. No. Not him. Anyone but him.

“We’re back!” Kimiko cried happily, unbeknownst to Clay’s dilemma.

The boy’s attention snapped to them and seeing Jack’s red eyes light up in mild surprise sent another flutter through his chest. They were pretty when he wasn’t looking at them with menace or contempt. Now Clay was left trying to adjust his hat nonchalantly while attempting to hide his blush as they rushed towards them.

“Cool! What’d you get us?”

“Have you bought one of those famed American treats, Clay?”

“Yep, I bought us some twinkies, Omi,” Clay said definitely avoiding looking at Jack.

“Excellent!” the young one replied as Clay handed him one. “I have wanted to try one of these for a while now!”

Kimiko opened her bag up and let Raimundo rummage through to find something he liked. He pulled out a cola and a bag of hickory sticks.

“Sweet! These look just like chips from back home!” he exclaimed.

“Aw, off brand? They didn’t have anything better?” Jack pouted and he grabbed his share. Kimiko smiled to herself. “Stupid hick town.”

After they had all grabbed their snacks, they sat around on the various work benches and tires lying around the garage. The monks talked amongst themselves while Jack quickly ate through his bag of cheesies and tossed the bag on the floor before getting back to work again. Clay was thankful, it would be easier to ignore whatever happened earlier if Jack was ignoring them.

Not that it stayed that way for long. After finishing up, Omi ran back to Jack, asking him if he needed any help. Jack reacted like Omi was carrying some sort of extremely contagious disease and tried to run away.

“Absolutely not!”

“Why not?”

“Because I need actual help!”

Jack ended up running into Clay. Then the teen grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him, or tried to at least.

“Cowboy, you know how cars work right? You’re competent!”

Clay scratched the back of his neck, while a blush tinted his freckled cheeks.

“Aw, now, I’m no expert or nothin’ but I’ve worked on tractors back on the ranch.”

“Do you know the difference between a wrench and a screwdriver?”

“Yes?”

“Good enough for me!” Jack proclaimed and shoved a paper in his hands. “Get me these parts and keep him,” he pointed at Omi, “out of my way! And you two!” he pointed at Kimiko and Raimundo. “Same goes for you! I need another hour to fix this and I don’t need either of you breathing down my neck! Plus, I don’t want to ruin the big reveal.”

Raimundo cocked an eyebrow. “‘Big reveal’?”

“We’re gonna be riding in style once I’m done with the finishing touches!”

“Oh, yes we shall look most high with our new, fancy ride!”

“That’s ‘fly’, Omi.”

“Jack, will you be putting one of those ‘spoilers’ on the car? They make cars go faster! I’ve seen it in Raimundo’s movies!”

“Don’t worry Omi,” Jack said. “I’ve got something way better in mind.”

Kimiko looked doubtful. “Now I’m scared.”

“As long as it’s street legal,” Clay said, sighing.

“As long as it gets us on the road,” Raimundo added. He stretched an arm above his head and yawned. “I’ll be taking a nap outside if anyone needs me.”

Kimiko jumped off her seat and walked over to Clay and Omi. “I guess I’m with you guys.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go.”

With that, the monks began walking out of the garage. Right before she stepped outside, Kimiko turned to Jack.

“That’s the last time you give us orders Jack. Don’t try that again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said, waving her out.

He watched them go and waited until they were all out of sight before turning to the car. He hunched over the engine and laughed quietly, but very much evilly, to himself.

“Now let’s see what kind of damage I can do.”

 

* * *

 

Jack had been lying slightly when he said that it would take four hours. Technically, the car was ready to run after two but there were adjustments to make. Jack was a perfectionist who prided himself in his work, so he wasn’t going to be satisfied with “good enough”. It was going to run and it was going to run better than it did when it came off the assembly line. Plus it needed to look the part. He wouldn’t be caught dead in some common rust bucket. What if other villains saw him? The scandal!

All in all, it took him a bit over an hour before he called the monks back in the garage. Jack had thrown a tarp over the car to not ruin the big reveal. He stepped in front of them with a smile, like a businessman about to show them his newest product.

“Lady and gentledorks, I present to you…” he paused for effect before ripping the tarp off. “The Spicermobile™: the car of EVIL!”

The monks cocked their heads.

It was… well, it sure was something. The front headlights were mismatched and the bumper looked like it had been cut up into five pieces before being welded back together. The car’s paint had been grinded off, though the wood paneling had been left untouched, and black flames had been painted onto the sides. A hole had been cut through the hood to make way for a shined, but still slightly rusted, supercharger and mufflers had been artfully welded onto the side of the car, seemingly just for looks. Fins had been ripped off two seperate cars and welded onto the back with wild abandon. Similarly, the hub caps on the tires were taken from four different cars and, to top it off, the radio antenna was topped with a smiley little devil ornament. It would have had a post-apocalyptic charm to it, like something out of a Mad Max movie were it not for a few glaring issues.

“Why’re the fins two different colours? Do the tail lights even work?”

“Did you re-upholster the inside with neon zebra stripes?”

“The license plates says ‘2CUT3 4U’,” Raimundo said. “There’s glitter on it.”

“When did you find the time to make a hood ornament that looks like one of your robots?”

“Are those fuzzy pink dice, Spicer?”

“Hey, I’m working with limited options here!”

“It’s tacky,” Kimiko said.

Jack gasped.

“I love it!” Dojo exclaimed. “It’s got real charm.”

“Yeah,” Raimundo said, sarcasm dripping from him. “Charm.”

Clay sighed. “Well, it looks street legal, at least. Here’s hoping the cops don’t pull us over.”

“America doesn’t have a fashion police, does it, Clay?”

“I hope not.”

“No spoiler?” Omi asked, looking at Jack.

He shrugged. “The back’s just glass, you can’t put a spoiler on that. It’d look dumb.”

“Like this doesn’t?”

“Oh, shut up!”

Clay grabbed Jack’s attention. “It does work though, right?”

“Try her out, cowboy,” Jack said, tossing the keys to him. Clay looked at the keyring and was unsurprised to find a rabbit’s foot on it along with a few other odd keychains Jack had nicked from somewhere. He walked over to the driver’s seat and the rest of them crowded around the open car door as Clay put the keys into the ignition and turned.

The car started, sputtered and, finally, rumbled to life with a hearty roar.

“Haha, yes!” Jack exclaimed. “Told you!”

Clay was pleasantly surprised. “Well I’ll be.” He turned to the rest of the monks. “Well, let’s get this rodeo started!”

“Shotgun!” Jack cried out first.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Raimundo said.

“Well, I’m not having him sit next to me!” Kimiko replied.

“Clay, what do you say?”

Clay shrugged. “Sorry, Rai, but he did call shotgun first. Them’s the rules.”

“Since when are you on his side?”

Ignoring the argument, Omi went to where he thought the door handle would be and found none. He scrunched his face in confusion as he looked at his team. “Where is the door?”

“It’s a coupe,” Jack said as if that explained it. He rolled his eyes when that didn’t clear anything up. “A two door. Come on.” And he motioned the rest of the monks to the other side of the car.

He opened the passenger door and made sure he had their attention before pressing the lever by the foot of the seat with his scuffed up boot. The seat folded forward with just enough room for the monks to squeeze through.

“Ladies first!” Omi proclaimed.

“Normally I’d pass but being squished in the middle between you two for thirty hours? No thanks,” she said before getting in.

Omi jumped in right after her, excited to go on the road trip. Clay had showed him a few road trip movies and they were always full of heartfelt emotion and zany hijinks. Yes, he was very excited to experience America on this adventure!

Raimundo was last. He tossed their bag of Wu in the trunk, along with Jack’s stuff, and got in.

With that, Jack snapped the seat back into place and sat himself next to Clay. Once everyone was in the car, Clay shifted the car into drive and drove them out of the garage. They rolled up next to the main office and Clay honked the horn. Keatt opened the front door and looked at them, surprised that they had actually managed to fix the useless rustbucket he had sold them. They all rolled down their windows.

“Mighty fine thanks for the car, Keatt!” Clay said, waving his hat out the window.

“Was nice knowing you!” Kimiko said with a sickly sweet voice.

“Catch you later, dude,” Raimundo said as Omi nearly jumped on his lap to wave at the man.

“Goodbye!”

“For now,” Jack added with a menacing laugh. “You haven’t seen the last of me!”

“Um.”

With that Clay punched the gas and the wheels kicked up a wave of mud right onto Keatt as they ripped across the ground.

“Why you no-good kids! Come back here!” he yelled and began running after them. He ought to call the cops on those delinquents!

The car didn’t stop but the goth kid shoved his entire body out of the car window and flipped him double birds while laughing maniacally before being yanked violently inside. With that, the car drove off the yard and onto the highway.

“Yeah! That’s right! You’d better run!”

 

* * *

 

Jack was still laughing even after being shoved back into his seat.

“That was awesome!”

“Put on your seat belt.”

“Psh, sure Mom,” Jack said but complied.

Omi giggled. “We are quite the bad boys!”

“That goes double for you, Omi,” Clay warned.

The backseat brigade took another minute to figure out how their seatbelts worked while Clay drove on at a slower pace. He’d grabbed a free map of the county while they were in the store and had been studying it while waiting for Jack to finish up with the car, but he was hesitant to punch the car at full speed considering the nature of the parts that made up the engine. After a few minutes of driving, Clay had to admit that it drove like a dream. The pedals didn’t stick, the engine didn’t sputter, and the gear shift was smooth.

“I gotta say, Spicer. For an old piece of junk, this is a mighty smooth ride.”

Spicer beamed at him from the corner of his eye for a second and then immediately played it off. “Psh, for a genius like me? Piece of cake.”

Jack then started messing with the knobs on the dashboard and turned on the radio.

“Now let’s get this really going,” he said as he started tuning into a rock station.

His hand was swatted away instantly.

“Ow!” He clutched his hand. That had hurt!

“No siree, partner,” Clay said and turned the radio to a country station.

Jack crossed his arms in his seat. “This is going to be the worst--”

Behind him, Raimundo shoved his sneaker into the lever at the base of Jack’s seat and, in one quick motion, the passenger seat folded over and jammed Jack’s face into the dashboard. The backseat erupted into laughter while Clay snickered beside him. Dojo slithered down Clay’s hat and poked at Jack’s squished cheek.

“No, now it’s the worst.”

 

* * *

 

Night was falling on an unusually eventful day for Keatt when he made his way to his car. He grumbled when he saw scuff marks on his pride and joy and started muttering to himself as he threw a tarp over the pristine seats of his car. Despite the mud coating him head to toe, he couldn’t be too unhappy. The junk the kids had gathered wasn’t worth anything near what they paid him. He was four hundred dollars richer and all it took was some suckered kids and extra time shining up his beauty. Not too bad for a day’s work.

He sat himself down in the driver’s seat and turned the car on.

But nothing happened.

He tried again. Still nothing.

“Wha-?” he started, only to look at the fuel gauge and find it showing up empty. He tapped at the glass but the needle didn’t budge. That was impossible. He’d filled her up just this morning. The receipt was still crumbled up on the dash. Then it hit him-- those kids did this!

He stomped out of the car and grabbed a gas canister. He always had a few spare gas cans just in case. But as soon as he lifted it up, he knew that it was empty, though he was sure that this one had gas in it last time he checked. He scoured his garage only to find that every single damn gas can was empty!

He slammed the empty one in his hand to the ground and his voice shook with rage as he yelled.

“Rotten kids!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might be while off but I am working on it!
> 
> You'll also note that I'm teasing a few ships but, if you're worried, I'll only be teasing them. They won't be the focus. I'd much rather focus on the most important of ships: friendship!
> 
> Songspirations: One Piece at a Time by Johnny Cash
> 
> * I’m not entirely sure that the nine dots on Omi’s head were called that but that's the best name I could find for them. Also did you know that those nine dots are caused by scarring via burning incense on a monk’s head? Hardcore!


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